


TMR/ TW Oneshots

by SatanDaddy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: (Only in some stories), 20 Chapters, Abduction, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Amusement Parks, Angst, Banshee Lydia Martin, Blood, Boarding School, Bobby Singer? - Freeform, Book/Movie 2: The Scorch Trials, Boy x boy, Brainwashing, Cell Phones, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Found Footage, Gay, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Guitars, Happy Ending, High School, Hurt Thomas (Maze Runner), Kissing, Long Shot, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Memories, Missing Persons, Motel, Night Terrors, Nightmares, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Past Torture, Phone Calls & Telephones, Poor Thomas (Maze Runner), Presumed Dead, Remember I love you, Romance, Sad Ending, Sad Lydia, Sad Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Safe Haven, Safe Haven (Maze Runner), Scorch - Freeform, Scott is a Good Friend, Short, Short Chapters, Short One Shot, Singing, Stiles Stilinski Can Sing, Stiles Stilinski is Missing, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), Stydia, The Death Cure, Thomas Can Sing (Maze Runner), Thomas Has Nightmares (Maze Runner), Thomas remembers, Torture, Two Shot, Violence, WICKED | WCKD is Not Good, Walk Into A Bar, Worried Derek Hale, Worried Lydia Martin, Worried Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), long chapters, newtmas - Freeform, ships, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanDaddy/pseuds/SatanDaddy
Summary: Just ideas that I will never finish, so I made them oneshots.Certain ships for certain stories.Some oneshots will have a Pt 2 if ppl like them.DISCONTINUED
Relationships: Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	1. Camera One

**Author's Note:**

> After Teresa's betrayal, WCKD captures all the Immunes from the Right Arm, including Thomas, and Newt.  
> Gally has the idea that Thomas had it easy in his time at WCKD, so Teresa shows him footage of how *not* easy he had it XDD  
> **Also, Gally was with them in this. :)  
> Just me making sure I get my daily Hurt Thomas.

**"Sit down, please** , Thomas," Teresa requested tiredly, ignoring the glares being thrown her way.

She did what she thought was right, she followed her gut. Teresa just wanted to help the world, save the people being infected. She just wanted to do the right thing. That was why she had given away the Right Arm. _'Betrayed them.'_ She'd never wanted anyone to die. Never. But what's done is done.

Thomas slumps on the seat in front of her, all the fight left from his eyes.

Teresa tried to ignore the twisting in her gut at the sight. Thomas isn't supposed to look like that. He's hopeful, determined. Not broken. Not like this.

Newt, Minho, and Gally watch her closely from where they stood across the room as she rolled Thomas' sleeve up. She grabbed a cotton bud and cleaned the inside of his elbow. Then, grabbing a needle, she injected it and began to draw blood.

Gally then spoke up, squinting at Thomas' arm. "Where'd ya get that, Greenie?"

Teresa followed his gaze. So did Thomas. It was a large scar on his upper arm. It looked like a burn mark. But what gives you that kind of burn? It was too faded to have been from the Maze or the Scorch.

Teresa flinched, knowing exactly where that came from.

Thomas shrugs. "Dunno. Why?" They all had their scars. Thomas wasn't any different.

Gally shrugged as if he weren't interested. "Didn't think you'd get hurt if you're all safe with WCKD."

Teresa looks up at him, then back down distractedly. "What are you talking about? Of course, you can still get hurt."

Gally glared. ''Yeah, well not all of us had it easy in WCKD.''

Teresa froze, looking up. ''You think Thomas had it _easy_ in WCKD?''

"Teresa-" Thomas tried to argue.

"You saying he didn't?" Gally asked, disbelieving, eyebrows raising higher than they already were.

Teresa huffed, anger lining her features. She stood up, placing the needle on the tray beside her and grabbed Thomas' arm, lifting him up. She then pushed him forward gently.

"Out.''she demanded them.

They didn't argue, happy to oblige.

Teresa would show them.

*************************************

The four Gladers sat on their beds in the room they were kept in. It was a lot like when they were at the facility with Janson, except they didn't know what happened to Frypan, or the rest of the Right Arm. They'd been silent ever since they got back. There wasn't anything to say really, nothing to talk about. They were trapped again, and this time, Thomas didn't know if they'd be able to escape.

The door's ID scanner flashed green and it opened. Teresa entered the room, chin high in defiance. She was holding a small device, Thomas didn't recognise it. She strode over to where Gally sat and held it out to him. He stared at it in a moment of hesitance, before suspiciously taking it.

Teresa nodded at the object. ''See how easy Thomas really had it.''

With that she left, leaving the room quieter than it had been before she'd arrived. Thomas didn't know how he felt about this whole ordeal. It was just a scar. It was just Gally being Gally. Why was Teresa so defensive?

Gally examined the thing in his hands, confused. The other three Gladers joined him, sitting next to him on his bed to see what it was. The device had the symbols _A2_ on it. Gally spotted a switch, turning it to the left. The device immediately emitted a transparent blue screen. Thomas recognised it as a hologram, of sorts. The screen was filled with information. Information about _Thomas._

_**Subject: A2**_

_**B.N: MieczysÅ‚aw Stilinski** _

_**Name: Thomas Edison** _

_**ID: gecp7te** _

_**D.O.B: 08/04/ 1999** _

"What does B.N mean? And what is _Mi-ec-zy-slou_ supposed to mean?" Minho asked, trying to sound out the strange word.

The others shrugged.

"So you're 18 then, Tommy,'' Newt tells him.

Gally swipes the screen and a new page appears.

Its just pictures.

Stiles is in every one. He's surrounded by many different people. There's one with a kid with a crooked jaw, who shows up in a majority of the photos. They smile happily at the photo in a strange red uniform, holding white nets. Thomas tried to ignore the twinge of familiarity at the sight.

He's with a pretty redhead in another, but Thomas' mind supplies _strawberry blonde_ for him. There's one of him with an older man in another. They're both laughing, the older man's eyes wrinkling. There's also one with a light brown haired girl too, and Stiles has his arm around her waist as they make faces at the camera. He only looked about 16.

There's a whole gallery. He's young in a few, with a woman who he couldn't place as anyone except his mum.

Thomas feels a sense of sorrow settle in his heart while looking at them but he couldn't explain it. He didn't know these people, even if he _was_ next to them in all these photos, grinning widely.

"Think that's your friends?'' Newt asked, before looking at the picture with the older man, ''or your family?''

Thomas doesn't say anything, swiping to the next page so he wouldn't have to see the faces in the pictures. Just looking at them made him feel pangs of sadness in his chest.

The next page is full of more information.

Thomas only skims through it quickly. It says that he's called 'Stiles' because his real name is too difficult to say- he guessed that was the Mieczyslaw thing- he lived in Beacon Hills with his father, 'John Stilinski.' A sheriff.

He also read that his mother was dead. Thomas didn't know what he thought about that.

Apparently he got good grades and had _ADHD._

He'd stopped reading at this. He didn't want to know. He was Thomas now. This 'Stiles' was gone. Replaced by a guilt-ridden, empty _void._

A void of who he used to be.

Gally swiped the screen again. This time, it wasn't filled with happy pictures, of facts and a literal biography about Thomas. There were videos. Gally gave them a bewildered look before tapping the first one.

_Janson stands next to an examination table. Thomas is strapped to it, arms and legs held down as he struggles fruitlessly to escape._

_"What is your name?'' Janson asks, circling Thomas._

_Thomas stares at him, hesitance in his voice as he speaks. ''Stiles.''_

_"Wrong." Janson presses something in his hands, and Thomas- Stiles, screams._

Newt and Minho cringe, looking away. Thomas does too. Gall just gets out of the video.

They're silent for a minute before Gally nervously taps on another video as if hoping it will be something else. And it is.

_Thomas is on the same table, Janson still circling him. But his name isn't Stiles anymore._

_"Who do you work for, Thomas?'_

_"I don't work for anyone." There's fear in his voice, but defiance and determination too. Like he knew what was coming._

_Thomas screams in pain as Janson presses something again._

Again, Gally quickly exits the video.

Gally stares at Thomas. And if Thomas wasn't mistaken, he looked _sympathetic._ Thomas looked away. He didn't need pity, especially not from Gally.

Gally got up, placing the device on the floor. Then, he looked up at Thomas, and smashed it with his foot.

It was like an agreement to never talk about it. What they just saw.

And Thomas was glad.


	2. Glader High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Gladers are sent to a prestigious boarding school, Glader High instead of, y'know, the Glade.  
> A month after the Dread Doctors, Stiles Stilinski goes missing.  
> A month after the Dread Doctors, Thomas Edison is sent to Glader High.  
> Scott and the Pack look everywhere.  
> But Stiles is nowhere to be found.
> 
> Hopefully better than it sounds.

**Stiles grinned** widely when the bell finally rang.

It was Friday afternoon and he and Scott were going to the movies after school, and Stiles was happy he could finally spend some time with his best friend.

They'd just defeated the Dread Doctors. They were finally given a break from crazy-dead-yet-alive-doctors.

They could be normal for a while.

He raced out his class, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He knew Scott was going to be at work for an hour, so he decided to head home and get ready.

Stiles pulled up to his driveway, turning the engine off and climbing out. He headed straight to his room, hoping to get his English report finished quickly so he wouldn't have to do it over the weekend. Slumping down in his desk chair, he dumped his bag on the desk and pulled out his homework.

He sat with his work spread out all over his desk, reading from a website and not taking anything in.

The house was quiet, offering no distractions, yet he just couldn't focus.

Sighing, he gathered up his papers. He wasn't going to get this done. He just couldn't concentrate.

As he was packing up his work, he heard a soft _thud_ downstairs.

Freezing, he strained his ears for any other sounds. His father was working late, and no one else should be downstairs.

There weren't any other sounds, and Stiles began to wonder if he was hearing things. He turned to his bedroom door, hand hovering over the doorknob.

He was probably just being paranoid, with all the dread doctors and stuff, who wouldn't be? He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when another thud, louder this time, broke the silence of his home.

His breath caught in his throat.

Someone was in his house.

He wasn't alone.

He raced to his bed, reaching underneath it and grabbing his baseball bat. He returned to the door, slowly turning the doorknob, opening the door, and wincing as it squeaked. There weren't any more sounds downstairs, so he continued.

He snuck down the stairs, avoiding the steps he knew were squeaky.

Holding his bat behind him, ready to swing.

He scanned the lounge room, finding a photograph of him and his parents on the ground, glass frame shattered.

He felt a pang of sadness at the sight.

He replaced the frame on the shelf, hoping to God the wind had knocked it over.

He ignored the fact that no windows were open.

He entered the kitchen, squinting in the darkness. He didn't dare turn the light on and alert whoever was here of his presence.

The kitchen seemed empty, and nothing looked out of place. He continued to the last room downstairs. The dining room.

He felt his heart speed up, heard it throbbing in his head.

There was a woman, sitting at the dinner table, blond hair in a tight bun. Sitting where his mother used to sit.

As he spotted her, she turned to face him.

She smiled, though it wasn't a kind one, and it sent shivers down his spine.

  
'Hello, Mieczyslaw.'

He heard a footstep behind him and didn't have enough time to turn around.

Something covered his mouth and nose and everything goes black.

  
***

  
Scott checked his watch again, huffing.

Stiles was meant to be here 15 minutes ago. They'd agreed to come at four so they'd be 10 minutes early and have enough time to buy food and drinks for the movie.

Scott took out his phone again. No messages. He rang Stiles again, just receiving voicemail.

_'Hey, it's Stiles-'_

Scott hung up, getting frustrated, but also a little worried.

This was meant to be time to spend with Stiles. They barely ever got to just hang out anymore, and Scott had been looking forward to this. And he knew Stiles had too.

Which is why he was worried.

He rang one last time, before stuffing his phone back in his pocket.

Scott jumped on his bike and rode to Stiles'. He knew something was up. Stiles would never leave him hanging.

When Scott got there, he saw Roscoe sitting in the driveway. So he was home. Why wasn't he answering his phone?

He ran to the door, letting himself in.

'Stiles?' Scott yelled, not waiting for an answer as he raced up the stairs. He threw Stiles' bedroom door open. He wasn't there, but Scott could tell he'd been here recently; his scent was still strong.

He ran downstairs, coming to a stop in the loungeroom. It was empty, and he began to search the kitchen when something caught his eye.

Looking back, Scott saw a photo frame. He recognised it immediately. It was of Stiles, the Sheriff, and Stiles' mum. The glass covering the picture was shattered, cracks covering the surface.

Scott frowned, replacing the photo and remembering what he doing.

He quickly forgot the picture, however, as he entered the kitchen. He could see in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room, Stiles' trusty baseball bat lying on the floor. Scott picked it up, turning it in his hands when a scent filled his nose. It was a chemical.

Chloroform.

Scott felt his stomach twist in worry.

He could smell fear, panic. He could smell _two other people._

Stiles hadn't been alone.

Whipping out his phone, Stiles called Derek. He needed to find Stiles.

Derek answered on the third ring.

'Scott?'

'Derek. I need you at Stiles' house. Something's happened.'

And with that, he hung up. He paced around the room, not knowing what to do.

Someone had taken Stiles. _Someone_ _had taken Stiles._

He then rang Lydia.

'Hey, Scott, what's-'

'Get to Stiles' house. I think he's in trouble.'

'What type of trouble?' she asked, worry evident in her voice.

'I can't find him and I smell chloroform.'

'I'm on my way,' she said immediately, hanging up.'

While he waited impatiently, he debated on whether or not to call the sheriff.

He deserved to know, but Scott didn't want to worry the man more than he already did. Especially if they manage to find Stiles unharmed.

Something told him that wouldn't be the case.

'What's wrong?' Derek appears out of nowhere, eyeing the bat in Scott's hand.

'I can't find Stiles, he won't answer my calls and I smell chloroform.'

Derek set into action, running upstairs, Scott hot on his heels. Derek grabbed Stiles' pillow, bringing it to his face and inhaling deeply.

'I got it,' he said, running downstairs, following the trail that he could smell.

  
***

He woke up in a bed he couldn't remember. In a room he didn't recognise. With people he didn't know.

He shot up, panic fuelling his movements.

'Woah, Greenie!' someone opposite him in another bed jumped up. He had black hair and looked Asian. 'calm down!'

'Where am I?' he demanded, looking frantically around the room.

The room looked like a dorm in a college. Or a boarding school. There were three beds, two along the walls, and another in between them against the far wall and he noticed another boy on his bed. He had dirty blonde hair and pale skin.

'Glader High,' the Asian answered calmly.

' _What_?'

'You're at Glader High,' the blonde replied, getting up from his spot on his bed, 'do ya remember ya name?'

He scrunched his face in confusion, thinking. His name?

Thomas.

'Thomas,' he said shakily, but realised he didn't know anything else about himself. Or _anything_. 'why don't I remember anything else?'

'Don't worry,' the Asian assured him, 'it happens to all of us.'

Thomas stared at them, silently. He still didn't understand. What was going on?

'Uh, I'm Minho,' the Asian introduces himself.

'Newt,' the blonde tells him.

Thomas stares some more, before finding his voice.

'What- what is this place?'

'We'll show ya,' Newt smiles kindly, holding out a hand.

Thomas hesitates slightly, before reaching out and taking it.

***

The scent disappeared on the highway.

Scott, Derek, and Lydia had searched all night, yet Stiles was nowhere to be found.

The Sheriff had been informed and had frantically organised a search party.

'Where is he?' Scott whined, worry and sadness seeping into his voice.

He, Derek and Lydia were still in the woods. They weren't giving up, not on Stiles.

'I don't think he's in Beacon Hills anymore, Scott,' Derek replied, 'or else we would have found him.'

Scott's face falls even further, and he turns to Lydia, hoping she would have an idea, any idea.

But Scott froze as he saw her, face scrunched and lips sealed shut.

'Lydia?' he asked.

Lydia chokes on a sob, squeezing her eyes shut.

Derek turned, eyes widening.

'Lydia?' Scott asked again, hoping to God she wasn't about to scream.

Lydia shook her head desperately, breathing heavily.

Scott and Derek shared a fearful look before a high pitched screech left Lydia's mouth, Stiles' name on her lips.

They covered their ears, grimacing as the sound assaulted their eardrums.Â 

The scream ended as soon as it started, and Lydia fell to the floor in a heap, sobbing and crying ' _Stiles_.'

Because Stiles was dead.

And Thomas was born.

***

Thomas followed Newt and Minho, who were showing him around the school.

He was shown the giant cafeteria, the green fields outside, the courtyard, and all the classrooms he needed to go to. But Newt said they all had the same classes, being in Group A, so Thomas could just hang with them.

They were heading back to the courtyard to meet their friends when Minho pointed out two adults walking down a hallway.

'That's the principle, everyone calls her Paige, and that's the vice, but call him Ratman. No one likes him.'

Thomas found himself staring 'Paige.' She looked familiar. He couldn't place it.

'Don' worry, Thomas, we all get that,' Newt says. 'All the new Greenies recognise her somehow.'

Thomas nodded uncertainly before following them back to the courtyard.

He was introduced to the other kids that Newt and Minho were friends with. There was a younger, curly-haired kid named Chuck who had taken an instant liking to Thomas. And there was Frypan, the funny, yet caring want-to-be chef and Winston, funny and kind.

It was Sunday, so they didn't have any classes. The four welcomed him to their group and Thomas found himself fitting right in.

And although he couldn't remember anything but his name, he felt himself missing something.

Something he'd never know.

***

Thomas soon learned that this school? It was a prison.

No one was allowed to leave and the teachers wouldn't give them answers. The principle didn't even talk to anyone unless she called for them.

So Thomas, begrudgingly, accepted that this was his new home. 

For now.

The first few days at Glader High passed in a blur.

He went to his classes- ones he didn't think were normal for a high school- and he carried on like normal.

Well what he thought was normal.

He was more comfortable now, and he became good friends with his roommates. 

Thomas fell into a routine. Get up at six, go to the cafeteria with Minho and Newt for breakfast, meet up with the rest of Group A and go to their classes.

One day, there was a new Greenie, as the Gladers liked to call them.

And what shocked Group A the most was, it was a girl.

Her name; Teresa.

***

It'd been a month since Stiles... died. They had a funeral. Empty casket. They still didn't know what happened. He hated not knowing. 

Scott didn't know who was taking Stiles' death harder.

Derek had shut himself off after Stiles went missing. He showed up for the funeral but left right after. 

They hadn't even had a body to bury, but the Sheriff knew what a Banshee's scream meant. No matter how much he wanted to deny it. The man was falling into depression, the only thing keeping him from drinking being Melissa. He lost his wife, and now he'd lost his son.

Scott knew how much Stiles meant to him.

Lydia had been silent ever since she screamed. Scott could smell the guilt and devastation radiating off of her.

Scott tried to hold onto the hope that his brother was still alive, but Lydia's scream had confirmed it. There was no hope.

Stiles was dead.

***

_Red eyes._

_'Scott_ _, you're my best friend, okay? And I need_ _you.'_

_A crooked jaw._

_'Scott_ _. You're my_ _brother.'_

_A friend._

_'Stiles_ _, if you have it, we'll do_ _something.'_

_A brother._

_'I'll do_ _something.'_

His eyes flew open, one word on his lips.

One name.

'Scott.'

***

Thomas was called to the principle's office during class.

He shared confused looks with Newt and Minho, but got up to leave nonetheless.

'Meet us in the courtyard after class,' Minho whispered to him, Newt nodding in agreement.

'Yeah,' Thomas replied and packed up his stuff. The teacher nodded at him as he left.

He adjusted his bag strap as he trudged down the hall. Was he in trouble for something? He hadn't even been here that long.

Thomas approached Paige's office and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' he heard her reply.

Thomas opened the door, poking his head in. 'You wanted me?' he asked, stepping in.

'Yes, I did. Take a seat,' she offered, gesturing to a chair in front of her desk.

There were two other men, one standing in the corner, the other leaning against a wall. Thomas recognised Ratman in the corner. The other man, he didn't know. He had blue eyes, and reminded Thomas of silver.

He was disturbed by the strange connection.

He took a seat, placing his bad on the floor.

'Now, let's get straight to the point,' she drawled, making Thomas uneasy, 'Janson and I are aware you've... remembered something.'

Thomas blanched. He hadn't told anyone about that. How the _hell_ did they know that? The stranger stared at him, his expression confusing Thomas.

Pity.

'You want to tell us what that is?' Ratman spoke, hate dripping from his voice.

Something wasn't right here.

And he wasn't going to stand by and play along.

'Why didn't we have memories in the first place? I think that's a better question.'

'Now, now, Thomas. Just tell us and you can be on your way.'

No way in hell.

'It's nothing,' Thomas lied, crossing his arms. What was going on here? 'I just remembered someone's eyes.' A half-truth.

Ava and Janson exchanged looks, but Thomas couldn't read them. 

'And what colour were they?'

'Blue.'

Ava looked relieved. It drove Thomas insane, not knowing. Janson looked suspicious. The other man looked like he didn't believe a word he said.

Ava nodded, placing her hands on the desk. 'Very well,' she said, 'you may go.'

Thomas bolted.

***

Scott sighed, shoving his homework back in his bag. He was never going to get it done.

His phone began buzzing on the table, making it vibrate. Scott picked it up, looking at the caller ID.

Argent.

His brows furrowed.

'Hello?' he asked.

'Scott. We need to talk.'

'Uh, sure. What's up?'

'Not over the phone. It's too risky. Meet me at Derek's. And call a pack meeting.'

'Okay, see you soon.'

***

'So what's this about?' Scott asked when everyone was at the loft.

Argent looked grim. 'It's about Stiles.'

Everyone froze. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room.

'Stiles?' Scott choked.

Argent nodded.

'What about him?' Derek growled.

'He's alive.'

***

'And you didn' tell 'em what you really saw?' Newt asked.

They were in the courtyard, and Thomas had told them why he was called to the office.

'No. There's something up with this place. And it's more than the fact that we can't remember anything.'

'Well,' Minho started, leaning in so no one would hear. 'what did you remember?'

'Just a name. I don't think it means much, though.'

'What name?' Newt

'Just ''Scott.'''

'Scott?' Newt asked.

Thomas nodded.

'Well that was underwhelming,' Minho grinned, 'honestly, I was expecting something more dramatic.'

Thomas rolled his eyes. 'Of course you did, drama queen.'

***

'But... Lydia screamed for him. It's impossible. And now you're telling us he's alive and living at some boarding school and can't remember anything?' Scott asked, hands trembling. 'That he thinks his name is _Thomas?'_

'I was there. I saw him,' Argent replied. 'I wouldn't lie, not about this.'

Derek stepped forward from his position against the wall. 

'Then we need to save him.'

***

Thomas knelt in front of the door, fiddling with the lock.

'Hurry up, shuck-face,' Minho hissed.

'This is a stupid idea,' Newt complained. 

'Shut up,' Thomas told them as the lock clicked open.

The three crept in, shutting the door quietly behind them.

Thomas looked around the office. The desk sat on the left, where Minho was already sitting.

'Really, man?' Thomas asked.

Minho sniggered and started typing on the computer.

Newt rolled his eyes to Thomas and began searching through the desks.

Thomas headed to the filing cabinet.

The draw had a million files, ordered A-Z. Thomas sifted through them, looking for T.

 _Thomas_.

Smiling triumphantly, he pulled it out and shoved it in his jacket.

He then began looking for N and M.

Once he found the files, he turned and saw Newt and Minho staring at a draw. What was in the draw.

A gun.

'We should get out of here,' Minho suggested, closing the draw.

Thomas and Newt agreed and the three snuck back to their room.

*** 

**_'Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski.'_**

That was the first thing his file said.

Thomas didn't even bother trying to read the jumble of letters.

_**'Beacon Hills, California.'**_

_**08/04/ 1999 (17)'** _

Was that his age?

Thomas turned the page. There were photos.

He was in every one of them.

But one stood out to Thomas.

_A crooked jaw._

_Red eyes._

_A friend._

_A brother._

_Scott._


	3. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is missing something.
> 
> He goes to Beacon Hills to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: The timeline is a little dodgy. Stiles went missing when he was 16, however, he and Lydia were close friends. Pretty much season 1- 3 happened in one year ðŸ˜‚ just squish it all together.
> 
> This story switches from Scott's POV to Stiles/Thomas'.

**Stiles Stilinski.**

Best friend to Scott McCall. Son to the Sheriff.

He'd grown up in Beacon Hills, spent his whole life there.

And one day, he was gone.

Just like that.

Search parties scoured the preserve, missing reports hung scattered on walls, pinned to trees. The whole of Beacon Hills was on the lookout.

And yet Stiles Stilinski was never found.

***

Eventually, people stopped looking for the young, lovable teen. They lost hope, and the case was closed. He was proclaimed dead.

The next few months were full of mourning. Anger, pain and sadness.

Memorials were displayed. Stiles' lacrosse jersey number was written all over the town. handwritten notes, candles and teddy bears were placed on his locker, spreading onto the floor.

 _They didn't even know him_ , Scott thought bitterly.

And they never would.

***

Thomas sat on the shore, knees tucked into his chest and arms wrapped around his lean form. He watched the blue waves splash, tumble into foam and wash over his feet.

Even after they'd found out that everything they were put through was fake, the Flare, the Scorch, _everything_ , they'd opted to stay at the Safe Haven. It was easier that way. It's not like they had families.

The waves retreated, dragging wet sand and rocks with it, causing Thomas' feet to sink into the sand.

Ever since The Last City, he liked to be alone. And since everyone was asleep, he had the Safe Haven's beach to himself.

It was peaceful.

And yet something was missing.

Some _one._

Newt?

Despite the throbbing ache in his heart every time he thought about him, _longed_ for him to have lived instead of himself, he felt that Newt wasn't what was missing.

There was something else.

Even before the Last City, before the Scorch, hell, the _Maze._

There was something he'd once had. Something he'd lost.

Everytime he strained to remember, the only thing that came to his mind was red eyes and a sheriff's badge.

It was infuriating. Not knowing why he saw this, not knowing what he'd lost. It angered Thomas, but it hurt him.

How could it hurt if he couldn't remember?

***

Three years.

One hundred and fifty-six weeks.

One _thousand_ and ninety-five days since Stiles had gone missing.

Scott wasn't getting on well without his best friend. His brother.

It was like losing a limb.

He couldn't operate without Stiles. And yet, he'd lasted three years.

And after all this time, they still had no clue what had happened to the teen.

Scott hated that the most. The not knowing. He knew Stilinski did too.

Anything could've happened to him.

They didn't even know if it was Supernatural or not.

_They didn't even know if he was dead._

Lydia hadn't screamed, and Scott liked to take that as- closure?

But doubtful thoughts continuously ran through his head.

How could someone disappear like that?

No scent. No trace. _Nothing_.

Even if Stiles was alive, why hadn't he come back?

If he'd left of his own accord, he would've at least left a note for his father.

But if he was taken, that made the likelihood of his survival being slim.

Surely no one would keep him alive for this long? What was the point?

Scott didn't know what to believe anymore.

***

_Green grass. Tall, shadowing trees. Red eyes. Strawberry blonde hair. A sheriff's badge. A blue Jeep. Red string._

_A scream._

Thomas' eyes flew open, two words on his tongue.

_Beacon Hills._

***

Stiles was turning nineteen today.

Scott, Lydia, Melissa and Noah were going to spend the day together.

To commemorate what should have been a celebration.

Lydia had been quiet after Stiles' disappearance. They all had. The only reason they kept going was for each other.

For Stiles.

***

He was leaving. Leaving the only place he felt safe, the place where his friends- family, were. All for a fleeting memory and what could be.

What could be his past, his future.

He didn't want to leave the Safe Haven, but the lingering, frustrating feeling of not knowing would never leave if he didn't at least find out what he was missing.

What he'd lost.

'I'm leaving.'

Minho and Brenda stared at him knowingly, like they'd been expecting it.

Minho smiled easily at him. 'Knew you'd get too curious to stay.'

Brenda smirked. 'We're coming with you.'

 _'Now don't be a twat about it. We're coming with_ _you.'_

Thomas flinched.

He hoped they didn't notice.

'So, where are we going?' Minho asked.

' _I'm_ going to Beacon Hills. You guys don't have to come. I don't even know what I'm looking for.'

'No chance,' Minho laughed.

***

Eventually the trees all blurred together and became one. The engine hummed as Brenda drove down the highway.

_Beacon Hills - > 3 miles_

Thomas huffed, shifting uncomfortably in the back seat.

They'd been driving for _hours._ Actually, two days. Every time they had to stop for gas and food, the three felt uneasy.

They'd spent three years in a post- apocalyptic world, and suddenly, there were people and shops and _normalcy._

It made Thomas wish he was back at the Safe Haven.

Minho's fingers tapped sporadically against his seat in front of Thomas, and by Brenda's clenched jaw, he could tell he was getting on her nerves.

Another sign on the side of the road told him how much longer they had to go.

Thomas sighed, bringing his knees to his chest. _One mile to go._

***

Moving on was hard.

Scott had three years of experience to prove this.

His best friend, the friend that was there for him through thick and thin, was still missing. The friend he'd called a brother, _still_ calls him a brother, was never coming back.

Stiles Stilinski was gone. And no matter how much he wished it not to be true, it was.

Scott would always love his brother. But his brother would want him to keep going.

Scott McCall was ready to move on.

***

_Welcome to Beacon Hills._

_Population:_

\-- _13000_ _\--_

\---11000--

 _10000_ **(I can't remember of this was off Riverdale or Teen Wolf. I also can't remember the numbers 😂)**

Decreasing population. Thomas didn't know if he'd prefer less people or if the population's reduction was cause for worry.

It was times like these that Thomas wished Newt was still alive.

(Not that he didn't wish it all the time.)

Newt had always been the calm and collected one. He'd always been able to calm Thomas' nerves.

And he'd be here if Thomas had been fast enough

He'd tried. He'd tried to save Newt. He'd tried _so damn hard._

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Thomas hadn't even had the chance to tell him.

Tell him he loves him.

'So, any idea where to go first?' Brenda asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

'Hey!' Minho cried, 'eyes on the road!'

 _A sheriff's_ badge _._

'Uh, yeah. Try find a sheriff station.'

Brenda nodded, turning back to the road. Minho relaxed visibly.

***

Scott hopped off his bike, grabbing the bag of food.

He entered the station, nodding at Parrish and knocking on the Sheriff's door.

'Come in,' the man's tired voice sounded.

Scott entered, smiling at Stilinski as he sat down.

'Scott,' the Sheriff said, putting the file he'd been reading down, 'what brings you here?'

'I brought you some lunch,' Scott replied, digging into the bag and pulling out containers.

'Mm, you got burgers!'

Scott smirked, pulling out a salad and placing it in front of him.

Stilinski stared at him, then the salad, before shaking his head and chuckling. 'Of course.'

Scott laughed, grabbing his burger, then stopped.

The smile on his face disappeared.

The sheriff noticed, hand drifting to his gun. 'What is it?'

Scott sniffed, nose in the air. 'I smell something.'

'What? Blood?'

Scott shook his head. 'It's someone's scent. It smells familiar. Like...' Then it clicked.

But that was impossible!

'Scott?'

Just then, Parrish barged in, shock on his face. 'Sheriff, you might wanna see this.'

The sheriff looked to Scott, before standing and following Parrish, Scott at his heels.

What was it this time? More Supernatural bullshit?

But what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

Because the view in front of him was something he least expected.

Something he'd begun to believe was impossible.

In front of him stood his son.

***

'Found it!' Minho yelled, pointing to the building across the street.

Brenda turned, pulling into the parking lot.

'So, why are we at a sheriff station?' Brenda asked, twisting in her seat to face Thomas.

Thomas shrugged. 'I remember a sheriff's badge.'

'And your sure it's this station?'

Thomas smirked. 'Nope.' He jumped out of the car, followed by Minho and Brenda.

'This better be good,' Minho whispered tu Thomas, 'I just sat through two hours of Brenda glaring at me. I think she's considering strangling me!'

Thomas sniggered as they entered the station.

Thomas walked up to a deputy's desk, talking on it. 'Can I talk to the sheriff?'

'Sorry, but unless-' the man looked up and froze.

'Stiles?' He asked, face masked in shock.

'Sorry, what?'

'Oi, Thomas, look at this!'

Thomas turned, looking over Minho's shoulder. It was a board of missing persons. And the one Minho was pointing to looked _exactly_ like him.

'I'll go get the Sheriff,' the man- Parrish, as his badge said- rushed to another room.

'He's weird,' Brenda observed.

'You think this was you?' Minho asked, still staring at the photo.

Before he could answer, three pairs of footstris approached them.

The three turned, seeing Parrish and another two approaching them.

The older man had _a sheriff's badge._

But the teen behind him made him freeze.

_Red eyes._

He took a step back as they approached.

The newcomers stared at him in shock.

'Stiles?' 


	4. Newtmas

* * *

_Please, Tommy,_ _please.'_

A scream caught in Thomas' throat as his eyes flew open, shooting up in his bed.

His eyes flickered around the room, remembering where he was. _Home._

He tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him as he rubbed his face with shaky hands.

He was safe. His father had found him. WCKD was gone. The flare didn't exist.

And Newt was in the guest room next door, safe and sound. 

_But just in case..._

Thomas swung his feet over the side of the bed, standing up on trembling legs. He had to make sure.

He crept to the door, inching it open enough to squeeze through and snuck to Newt's door, peeking in.

And just as he'd hoped, Newt was there, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slept.

Thomas' shoulder slumped as relief flooded through him.

"Tommy?" Newt's groggy, sleep-filled voice asked as he lifted his head to look at him.

He must've seen Thomas' shaking form because he sat up more, offering a hand to him. "Hey, you okay?"

Thomas closed the door silently behind him and took Newt's hand, climbing into bed beside him. All he wanted to do was fall asleep in Newt's arms, safe.

"Fine," he replied as Newt rubbed his back comfortingly.

"You sure?" he asked again, his brows furrowing in concern.

Thomas nodded, "I just needed to see you were okay," he looked down in embarrassment.

Newt was silent for a moment, making Thomas raise his head. Newt was smiling reassuringly.

"I'm fine," he whispered, taking Thomas' hands in his own, rubbing them with his thumbs. "I'm not going anywhere."

Thomas smiled back. Newt was okay, that's all that mattered.

They spent the rest of the night together, wrapped in each other's arms, unaware of the world around them.

(Or the photos the Sheriff took, finding them adorable.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE THIS WAS OKAY! I'VE NEVER ACTUALLY WRITTEN NEWTMAS BEFORE!


	5. Reunion

Sweat dripped down Thomas' forehead as he ran to the bench where his bag was.

He stuffed his gear inside, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. Scott appeared beside him, doing the same.

As Thomas raised an arm to wipe the moist of his face, Scott turned to him.

"Dude, is it just me or are you getting better?" He asked, wrapping an arm over his shoulder as they began to walk to the locker room.

Thomas smirked, copying Scott's actions. "It can't just be you, Coach's looking at me like I grew a second head."

Scott turned his gaze to Coach, and sure enough, he was staring at him, gobsmacked. Scott laughed, opening his mouth to reply when he was interrupted by someone across the field.

"Yo, Thomas!"

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that voice. A wide grin appeared on his face as he turned to the voice.

"Min!" He exclaimed, dropping his bag and sprinting across the field.

A look of fear washed over Minho's face and Thomas smirked. "Woah, slow down!"

Thomas launched himself at Minho, knocking him over. Thomas laughed as Minho shrieked and the two rolled on the grass, tackling each other.

"Is this what all boys do?" An amused female voice spoke up.

Thomas' head snapped up from where he was pinning Minho's shoulders down, said boy giggling- yes, giggling- and was feebly trying to escape.

"Brenda!" He jumped up, making sure to kick Minho playfully on the way, and brought her into a hug. He wouldn't dare tackle her.

When they broke apart. Thomas stood back, looking at Minho, who had gotten up, and Brenda. "What are you guys doing here?" He asked, smiling. 

"Came to visit you, slinthead!" Minho replied, slapping him on the back.

"Yeah, Tom, why else?" Brenda asked, smirking.

Thomas began to reply when someone behind him spoke. "Uh, Stiles?" Shuck. Thomas had forgotten Scott was there. "Who are these people?"

Thomas turned to him, waving an arm around. "Just some old friends. Scott, this is Minho-" he said as he gestured to him, "and Brenda," he pointed to her.

Thomas turned back to Minho and Brenda. "You guys wanna go get some food? We have the _best_ curly fries."

Minho grinned. "Sure, sounds good," he replied, Brenda nodding in agreement.

"Okay, great! I'll go get my stuff, meet me at my Jeep."

Minho and Brenda walked off, and Thomas ran to grab the bag he'd dropped. 

"Stiles?" 

Thomas turned back. "Yeah?" He asked and picked up his bag.

"You've never talked about them," he stated, confused.

Thomas shrugged. 

"And did they call you Thomas?"

Thomas scratched the back of his neck, wondering how to reply. "Yeah, just a nickname. An inside joke."

Scott nodded, looking kind of hurt at the statement. Thomas laughed at his reaction. 'Dude. I'm not replacing you. I'm just gonna go catch up with them. Its been a while since I last saw them, that's all." Scott nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Okay, man, I gotta go. Text you later!" He ran off to his Jeep to see his friends.

Scott pulled out his phone, dialing Lydia.  
She answered on the third ring."Hey, Scott, what's up?"  
"Hey, is Malia with you?"  
"Yeah, why?" She sounded suspicious.  
"Can you guys come to the diner? I think something's up with Stiles."  
"Why the diner?"   
"He's going there with some strangers.  
" Um, okay. Be there in five."  
"Thanks."

***

Thomas, Minho and Brenda ordered three rounds of curly fries.  
"So, Tom, how've you been?" She asked, popping a chip into her mouth.  
Minho did quite the opposite, shovelling a handful into his mouth. "Yeah," he said, mouth full, "what's been happening here?"  
Thomas looked away from the curly fry car crash, and to Brenda, who was looking at Minho in disgust.  
"Not much, there's just some guys on horses going around and taking people and erasing them from everyone's memories."  
Minho choked on his chips, but Brenda just sat back, nodding. "Yeah, that's normal around here, isn't it?"  
Thomas smiled.

**"

"Remind me why we're here again?" Lydia asked, rolling her eyes as they watched Stiles and his 'friends' from across the diner. Stiles hadn't seen them yet, too absorbed in his conversation.  
Scott shushed her. "There's something about them that's bugging me."  
"What, you think they're Supernatural?' Malia asked.  
" I don't know," he replied, irritated as he kept listening.  
 _"Not much, there's just some guys on horses going around and taking people and erasing them from everyone's memories."_  
"What the hell?" Scott whispered.  
"What?" Lydia hissed.  
"Stiles just told them about the Wild Hunt."  
"Maybe they _are_ Supernatural."  
Scott watched as the Asian- Minho, if he remembered correctly- suddenly turn serious.  
" _Hey, Thomas._ _How_ _are_ _you_ _..._ _Holding_ _up_ _about_ _Newt?"_  
Stiles flinched. There was a moment of silence before he replied. " _I'm_ _..._ _Getting_ _on_ _."_ There was another moment of quiet. _"_ _I_ _miss_ _him_ _."_  
"Why's he so upset about a lizard?" Malia hissed.  
Minho nodded. " _yeah_ _,_ _man_ _,_ _we_ _all_ _do_ _."_  
Suddenly, Scott didn't feel comfortable eavesdropping. This sounded private.  
"What on Earth are you talking about?" Lydia asked Malia.  
"Stiles said he missed 'Newt,'" she replied, using finger quotation marks.  
Lydia slapped her on the arm  
"It's a _name_!"  
"Oh."  
Minho suddenly spotted them. He scowled, whispering something indistinguishable to Stiles and the girl.  
Stiles' head snapped back, catching sight if them, gaze holding what Scott thought was... Betrayal.  
Scott looked down in embarrassment.  
Lydia huffed beside him. "Now you've done it, Scott."


	6. Reunion- 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per request (on Wattpad), there will be a second installment to Reunion. Hey, wassup?
> 
> Also, unedited, sorry.

"Danny! Hey, Danny!"

Danny lifted his head, turning around at Scott's voice. He tilted his head in confusion.

"Hey, what's up?"

Scott dug through his bag, pulling out a phone. He held it out to Danny.

"We need you to unlock it."

"We?" He asked, not taking the phone and looking at the empty hallway behind Scott.

"Well, _I_ do. Its important."

Danny hesitantly took the phone, examining it. "Uh, isn't this Stiles' phone?" 

Scott suddenly looked guilty. "Yeah. But I need you to unlock it. Its really important."

Danny scrunched his face in confusion. "I thought you guys were best friends. Don't you know his password?"

Scott looked down, mumbling something incoherent.

Danny leaned forward. "What?"

Scott huffed, speaking up. "He changed his password."

Danny shook his head. "Don't you think that means he doesn't want people on it?"

Scott huffed again. "Please just do it? Trust me, it's important."

Danny looked hesitant. 

"Please?" Scott urged.

Danny sighed, shaking his head. "Fine," he began walking away, speaking over his shoulder, "this better be important!"

***

"You _what?"_ Lydia asked furiously.

"His phone could tell us why he's been so distant!"

Lydia stood up, crossing her arms. "How stupid are you? The reason he's been so distant is because you're being a horrible friend. You're invading his privacy and not _listening_ to him!"

Scott looked down, rubbing his arm sheepishly. "But he's hiding something, Lydia. I know Stiles, I don't have to have Supernatural hearing to tell he's lying!"

Lydia shook her head, nose flaring. "You don't get it, do you? Maybe he's lying to you because he doesn't want to tell you? Or because you're not being the friend you should be? He doesn't have to tell you everything, and you need to understand that."

"No, _you_ don't get it. I don't trust these people and they could be Supernatural. And remember how Stiles told them about the Dread Doctors? Isn't that suspicious?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Since when are you good at knowing who to trust?"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean,_ Stiles has always known who to trust, and he's always been right. He was right about Matt and Theo, for starters. I think you should trust _Stiles_ on this one."

"I do trust him! But there's something about these people. Just... Let's see if his phone has anything, and if it doesn't, I'll drop it."

Lydia glared at him. "You're still invading his privacy." 

'Listen, let's just check a few text messages between him and those others. That's it, I swear."

Lydia was still glaring, but sat down. "Fine. But that's it."

Scott grinned triumphantly. 

***

"Min, did you take my phone?" Thomas asked, shutting his locker and leaning against it.

Minho rolled his eyes. "Why do you guys always blame me?"

"Seriously?" Brenda asked, shutting her own locker, "are you really asking that?"

Minho huffed, leaning back on the locker beside her. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. No, Thomas. I didn't take your phone." 

"Then who did? It didn't magically disappear from my locker. And you guys are the only people who know my combin-" Thomas paused, face growing angry. 

_Scott._

"Uh oh," Minho smirked as Brenda took out her phone, "someone's in _trouble_."

***

Lydia's phone dinged. She took out her phone and read the message, before smiling and replying.

"Who's that?" Scott asked.

"My mum," Lydia kued easily.

Malia leaned over Scott's shoulder, just as curious as Scott.

"Just a few texts, remember?" Lydia reminded them sternly.

"Yeah, we get it," Malia replied, rolling her eyes.

Scott opened the first and most recent text messages that popped up, the name ' _Min.'_

"That's that Minho guy, right?" Malia asked.

"Probably," Scott shrugged, scrolling up a bit.

_2 days ago_

_Min: hey can u get more hair gel?_

_Tom: Yeah yeah_

_Tom: Can't have Mr Minnie without_ _his hair products can we?_

_Min:_ _mhm_ _k_ _thxs_

"Um, why is his user _Tom?"_ Malia asked, pointing at the screen.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so nosy? He obviously doesn't want you to know!"

A notification popped up on the screen from _Brenda_ before Malia could reply.

Scott looked to Malia before before opening it.

_Brenda: hey_

Scott bit his lip.

"No," Lydia said, "you said _read_ a few messages. Not to pretend to be Stiles!"

"But it could give us more information about these people!" 

Before she could protest, Scott had already sent a reply.

_Tom: hey_

_Brenda:_ _whatcha_ _doing_

_Tom: nothing, u?_

_Brenda: you can stop pretending to be tom._

_Brenda: he's here with me._

Lydia smirked happily. Scott ignored her.

_Tom: why do u call stiles tom?_

_Brenda:_ _cuz_ _that's his name_ _dipshit_

"What's she on?" Malia asked, taking the phone from Scott.

_Tom: his name is stiles_

_Brenda: his names Thomas_

_Brenda: ask him yourself when u return the phone u stole_

"Well this keeps getting better and better," Lydia grinned. "Come on, they're at Thomas' house."

"How do you know that?" Scott asked.

"And why are you calling him Thomas?" Malia asked,crossing her arms.

Lydia just smiled innocently at them.

Scott's mind clicked. "You were _in on it,_ weren't you?"

Lydia took Thomas' phone, still grinning, and walked out the door, not waiting for them.

Scott sighed. _They were in trouble_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it wasn't TOO bad 😂 and sorry its on a cliffhanger, I just didn't know what to do next


	7. Chance

Ever since he'd gotten his memories back and returned to Beacon Hills a year ago, Scott had been treating him different. And lately, he'd become a lot more distant.   
So had Lydia. Really, the whole pack had.  
They'd stopped inviting him to pack meetings. He knew because he'd gone to Scott's house to drop off some research when he'd seen everyone there.  
He'd left the papers on the doorstep and bolted.  
Yet despite this, he still tried to be part of the pack.   
He tried so hard to earn his place in the pack. But everything he did, all his efforts, they seemed to do more harm than good.  
He always felt like he was only annoying them. And that little voice in his head told him he was. That they'd be fine without him. They didn't need him like he needed them. They were supernatural creatures, _werewolves_ _,_ _banshee_ , _were-coyote_ _._  
They didn't need him.   
But he didn't fully register these words until he heard Lydia and Scott.  
Lydia, his long time crush and best friend, and Scott, his _brother_ _._  
"When do you think he'll realise we don't want him in the Pack?" Lydia hissed to Scott, who was hunched over a desk in the library while Stiles stood frozen in the book aisle. It made him feel sick, a pain in his chest erupting unbearably at the words.   
"I don't know," Scott replied, annoyance seeking into his voice, "Derek says we should just tell it to his face."  
Lydia huffed, "that's because Derek has no emotion."  
Scott snorted and said something else, but Stiles didn't hear it.   
They didn't need him. They didn't want him.  
Stiles had had enough.   
And now, he had a chance.  
A chance to find his old friends. To start over. He could even leave Beacon Hills, get away from the supernatural crisis he lived in the center of.   
He could be _normal_ again.  
Or at least _feel_ normal again.  
And that's what he'd do.  
He was leaving.  
 _Thomas_ was leaving.

***

Ever since they'd completed the trials, ever since the FBI saved them from the Safe Haven, Thomas had been separated from the others.  
He had no idea where they were now. He had no way of contacting them.  
Thomas knew his father knew where they were. He also knew his father didn't want him to know _he_ knew.  
His father thought once he'd found his friends, he'd leave him again.  
And in a way, he was right. Though it made his gut swirl in guilt, Thomas knew he was better off with Newt and Minho.  
He just hoped his father would understand.

***

He snuck into his father's office when he was off work and Thomas had found the locations of his friends. Or _location_ _._   
They were together. They lived together in Los Angeles, Newt being 18 and Minho soon to be in three months.  
Jealousy tore at his heart at the fact that they were allowed to see each other, _contact_ each other when Thomas was left uninformed and alone.  
But he was also happy that they were in the same place. They weren't alone.

***

The next day his father went to work early. Thomas skipped school, opting instead to prepare for his journey to LA.  
He'd packed his bags and loaded them in his jeep, as well as packing enough food and his stash of savings from his closet.  
He'd also left a note for his father, telling him he was fine and not to look for him. But if Thomas knew his father at all, he knew these words wouldn't stop him.  
Thomas hated to leave him alone again, but he couldn't stay here anymore.  
Maybe he'd call him from a telephone box every now and then?  
Thomas looked around him. He was leaving. He was the leaving the house he'd grown up in, the house his mother and father had raises him in. He was leaving Beacon Hills. The town he'd lived in for so many years, the town where he'd met Scott and the pack.  
He was leaving.  
He was ready to leave.

***

After countless hours of driving, he finally stood on the doorstep of the address he'd found in his father's office.  
His friends were so close, for the first time in a year.  
Thomas inhaled deeply and sighed, raising his fist to the door.  
He knocked.  
Thomas dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Footsteps sounded behind the door, followed by a click and a creak as the door inched open. Thomas grinned when he saw Minho's face peeking out from behind the door. Minho's eyes found his and he froze. Then, quick as lightning, the door was thrown open and Thomas was tackled in a high.   
"Tom!" Minho cried, laughing joyfully.  
"Hey, Min," Thomas replied, not able to wipe the grin off his face.  
"Get in," Minho ordered, dragging him inside. "Oi, Newt," he yelled to the stairwell on their right.  
"What?" The English accent sounded from upstairs.   
"Get down here!"   
Thomas heard footsteps echo above them. "What is it this time?" Newt asked, coming down the stairs.  
If it was possible, Thomas' grin widened at the sight of him.  
Newt looked up and froze as his eyes landed on his.  
"Tommy?"  
Before he knew it, Newt had bounded down the last of the stairs and, much like Minho, attacked him with a hug.  
"Hey, Newt," he said into his neck.  
Thomas felt like a weight had lifted off his shoulder. He was here. With Newt and Minho. He was where he belonged.  
Newt stepped back, mirroring Thomas' smile.  
"What are you doing here? Didn't they send you off to your old town?"  
Thomas' smoke faltered slightly, but he shrugged nonchalantly.  
"Yeah, but I didn't have anything to stay for," he replied, hoping to avoid talking about his old pack and his father.  
Newt seemed to sense his discomfort and changed the subject. "Well, are you staying in LA?"  
Thomas nodded.   
"You have anywhere to stay? I'd you want, you could stay here? We've got a spare room." Newt looked to Minho for confirmation, and he nodded eagerly.  
"Really?"  
"Of course."  
Thomas' heart swelled. I'd love to."

***

For the next week, they were happy. Just the three of them.  
It was nice.  
It wasn't until the second week that anything eventful happened.  
They were shopping and Minho had gone off in a search for hair products, leaving Thomas and Newt getting food.  
Thomas had just placed the last of the food into the basket Newt was holding when Minho reappeared, dragging him out of the aisle.   
"Uh, Min, what are you doing?" Thomas asked, but allowed himself to be dragged anyways. He looked to Newt who shrugged.  
Minho lead them to a small notice board near the checkouts and stopped, letting go of Thomas to cross his arms expectantly.  
Thomas, bewildered, looked at the board, scanning the notices for something that stood out.  
Newt came up behind him, doing the same.  
That's when he saw it.  
It was him. He was smiling up at the camera with his father's arm wrapped around his shoulder. The Sheriff had been cropped out, making him the centre of the photo.  
Thomas felt a pang of sadness at the picture, and though he tried to bury the emotions away from his friends, they noticed.  
"You ran away, didn't you?" Minho asked, sympathy seeking into his voice.  
Thomas didn't want sympathy. He was better off now anyway.  
He nodded, looking down at the floor.  
Minho nodded, then ripped the poster down, scrunching it in his fist. "Well I'm sure you had your reasons." He stuffed the scrunched up paper in his pocket. "I'm hungry. Let's go."  
He walked off towards the register.  
Thomas smiled, following him and Newt clapped him on the back, smiling just as wide.

***

Thomas flicked spaghetti sauce at Minho, snorting when it landed in his hair. Minho turned to him, fury and outrage plastered all over his face.

"THOMAS!" He yelled, voice rising.

Newt ducked behind the counter as Minho grabbed a handful of flour. He flung it at Thomas, covering him in the white powder.

Newt peeked over the counter, bursting into laughter at the sight of him.

A splatter of sauce hit him square in the face.

Before anyone knew it, the kitchen was covered in food, just like them.

Thomas and Newt laughed at Minho's attempt to get the sauce of his hair.

He was okay. 

Everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1356 WORDS! OMG! 1356 WORDS OF CRINGE! HOPE IT WASN'T TOO BAD! UNEDITED TOO!


	8. Chances Part 2

The Pack felt Stiles' disappearance like a hole in their heart. He'd been gone a week, no trace or scent to help find him.

They'd never noticed how he'd held them together.

The sheriff had yelled at them when he'd come home to an empty house and a heartbreaking note. Yelled at them and told them they were supposed to be there for Stiles when he couldn't.

No one realised what they had done until he vanished without a trace.

The Sheriff put up missing posters everywhere he could but the pack knew one thing for sure.

Stiles was never coming back.

***

'Let's PARTY!'

This was a mistake.

Big, big mistake.

As soon as crowds flooded in and the music started blaring in his ears, Thomas was in the kitchen, away from everyone else.  
Why the hell had he let Minho host a party? Why did he let him drag him into these things?

The music still played, muffled by the closed door and Thomas could hear voices and laughter beyond.

What had he gotten himself into?

He should've known this would've been a disaster.

Too many people. Thomas has never been good with people.

Not since Wicked.

Never again.

Thomas sighed, looking around the empty room.

A bottle of alcohol sat on the bench across the room. He didn't bother checking what it was before grabbing it and slumping on a kitchen stool.  
He felt it burn his throat as he took a swig, then he set it down, placing his head in his hand.

He was gonna kill Minho.

The door opened behind him, and Thomas turned to see Newt walk in.

'Gettin' away from the people too?' He asked, settling down beside Thomas.

'You guessed it,' he replied.

Newt took the bottle out if his hands, taking a swig of his own.

'Can't believe we actually let Minho have a party,' Newt said, shaking his head.

Thomas hummed in agreement.

They passed time with easy conversation and drinking. With no one to stop them, they both had one drink too many.

Chatter and music outside the kitchen eventually died down.

'We should probably head to bed,' Newt suggested, voice slurred slightly.

Thomas nodded in agreement and got up, Newt in tow, and the two made their way up the steps.

Newt's room was the first down the hall. Newt began to enter, but stopped in the the doorway.

'You good?' Thomas asked, wondering if he'd drunk too much.

Newt turned, and suddenly his lips were on his own.

Despite the alcohol flooding his veins, Thomas felt more sober than he ever had.

He leaned in and finally understood what he'd been missing.

**_(_ ** **_OMG_ ** **** **_I'VE_ ** **** **_NEVER_ ** **** **_WRITTEN_ ** **** **_A_ ** **** **_KISSING_ ** **** **_SCENE_ ** **_😂😂_ ** **_HOPE_ ** **** **_IT_ ** **** **_WAS_ ** **** **_OKAY_ ** **_!!)_ **

***

Minho walked down the hall past Newt's room, digging his hand in his packet of chips. He froze, chip halfway in his mouth.

He slowly backtracked, peering into Newt's room.

A grin appeared on his face when he saw Thomas sleeping on the other side of the bed as Newt.

' _Finally_ ,' he said to himself, rolling his eyes.

He shoved the chip in his mouth and continued down the hall.

***

The Pack moved on. After a month of looking, they'd given up. There was no point looking anyway, they knew Stiles didn't want to come back.

Most of them didn't care anyway.

This point was proven when Scott organised a fun day at a theme park.

Yes. A theme park.

'We never do anything fun,' Scott said. 'We're always focusing on the Supernatural.' He handed each of them a ticket **_(I'VE_** ** _NEVER_** ** _BEEN_** ** _TO_** ** _A_** ** _THEME_** ** _PARK_** ** _,_** ** _IDK_** ** _HOW_** ** _IT_** ** _WORKS.)_** 'It's the holidays. Lets have some fun.'

***

They'd never had a normal childhood.

It was something Minho had pointed out about a month after they'd reunited.

Hence why they were standing in line at an amusement park.

Thomas rolled his eyes, looking to Minho. 'Remind me why we're here again?'

Minho grinned clapping him on the shoulder. 'It's _therapeutic_ _.'_ He said, using his hands for emphasis. 'Dude, you never have fun.'

Thomas smirked, 'how is this therapeutic? And aren't I the one who started that food fight?'

Newt butted in before Minho could reply. 'Aren't I the one who had to clean it up?'

'Hey, we both helped,' Minho defended.

Newt smirked, leaning back into Thomas' side.

Minho made gooey eyes at them and laughed.

He and Newt had been dating a few weeks, and Minho wouldn't shut up about it

They were finally at the start of the line, where they handed their tickets over headed in.

( _ **AGAIN**_ , **_I'VE_** _ **NEVER**_ _ **BEEN**_ _ **TO**_ _ **A**_ _ **THEME**_ _ **PARK**_ _ **.**_ _ **IDK**_ _ **IF**_ _ **THAT'S**_ _ **HOW**_ _ **IT**_ _ **WORKS**_ _ **.)**_

Minho took the lead, taking them straight to a food stall. 'What do you guys want?' He asked excitedly.

Thomas smirked.

***

Scott laughed, throwing a piece of popcorn at Kira.

He smiled, glad the Pack was having a good time.

Mason and Corey were across from them on the ferris wheel. Liam, Malia and Lydia were walking towards them from the rollercoaster ride they'd just hopped off. And Stiles was over-

Scott froze, the smile falling from his face.

_Stiles_ _?_

Stiles was smiling, _laughing_ _,_ something Scott hadn't seen in a while. There was a blonde boy on his back as Thomas chased after an Asian looking one.

Thomas caught up to the Asian, tripping him. He and the blonde laughed, though there was no menace. The boy got up and brushed himself off, rolling his eyes. ( _ **HOW**_ _ **MANY**_ _ **TIMES**_ _ **DO**_ _ **I**_ _ **WRITE**_ _ **'**_ _ **ROLLING**_ _ **HIS**_ _ **EYES'**_ _ **?)**_

He looked happy.

Scott nudged Kira, nodding his head to them. She followed his gaze, gasping when she saw Stiles.

Lydia, Malia and Liam were suddenly there, seeing Stiles too.

'Stiles? Where's he been?' Malia asked, huffing.

Scott shrugged, pulling out his phone. He quickly tapped the camera icon, holding it up to video Stiles, trying not to look suspicious.

The Pack watched as the blonde leaned down and, as Stiles looked up, kissed him.

**_(_ ** **_WOAH_ ** **_!_ ** **_AGAIN_ ** **_!! 😂)_ **

The stood baffled as Stiles interacted with these people as if he'd known them his whole life.

Only now did they realise what they'd thrown away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE IT WASN'T TOO CRINGE. I REALLY HATED IT BUT I CAN NEVER MAKE IT RIGHT SO I JUST POSTED THIS. WALLAH


	9. Bobby's

T

homas pulled over in the car park to the diner, a nice sight after miles and miles of trees and road.

'Okay,' Minho said, twisting his stiff back. 'We get food and run. We can't waste more money then necessary.'

Thomas and Newt nodded.

They all got out, stretching their aching limbs.

They approached the diner, trying to look casual. Thomas looked up, reading the neon sign that said ' _Bobby's_ _._

They entered the bar, approaching the counter. There was a kitchen behind it, a set of stairs beside that.

A man behind the counter saw them and walked over, drying out a glass. (cliche, i know.) He had brown eyes, wrinkled from the years, strawy hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a leather jacket, a plaid shirt underneath, and an old, weathered cap sat on his head. (*cough* supernatural, what? *cough*)

'What can I get you boys?' he asked.

'We just need some food,' Minho said hastily.

The man looked at them long and hard. 'You boys got money?' he asked, placing the cup on the bench.

Thomas froze, baffled. How had he known?

The man rolled his eyes. 'I know a group of scabbies when I see 'em. Now, tell me, where ya from?'

'LA,' Thomas lied immediately, saying the first place that came to mind. LA? He didn't even know where that was.

The man nodded, though he didn't look convinced. 'Well, we don't just give out food. We don't get enough profits for little charities for kiddies like ya selves. So, listen here and listen good. I can make a compromise. One of you three go up there-' he pointed to a stage across the room where a guitar sat, leaning against a stool- 'and give us a show, I'll get you three somethin' to eat.'

Thomas looked to Minho, who raised his hands defensively. 'You know I can't sing.'

'I ain't doin' that either,' Newt said, shaking his head.

Thomas glanced between the man and the guitar. Just looking at the guitar made his fingers itch. Chords and strum progressions filled his head and memories surged though his mind.

'I see them gears turnin,'' the man said, 'you gon' do it?'

Thomas sighed, nodding.

The man smiled. 'Great!' he hurried to the stage, clapping him on the back as he passed him. He jumped up on the stage, tapping the microphone experimentally. ''Ello, folks. Lookie here, we got ourselves a show.' The man- or owner, Thomas was beginning to think, waved him over. Minho pushed him and Thomas shot him a look over his shoulder as he approached the stage.

He jumped up on the stage, wondering how the hell he'd gotten himself into this.

The owner smiled at him, handing him the guitar and walking to the side. Thomas sat at the stool that was placed in front of the microphone and positioned the guitar.

It felt so natural, like he'd done it so many times before.

Thomas looked up at his friends. Newt leaned against the counter, smirking, and Minho shot him a thumbs up.

Rolling his eyes, he positioned his hand on the neck of the guitar, fingers spreading out over the strings, muscle memory taking over. He stared, confused for a moment, before remembering all the eyes watching him.

He played a single strum, getting the hang of the new guitar.

Then he played more chords, and he realised he was playing the opening chords to a song. Like he'd played them a hundred times. _He had,_ he thought. Words flew to his tongue and he opened his mouth.

 _'I don't wanna die or fade_ _away.'_

A few cheers filled the room, and Thomas tried not to let heat rise to his face.

He sang the next line, focusing on the chords. _'I just wanna be someone. I just wanna be_ _someone.'_

He heard Minho whoop from his place by the counter and tried to hide his smirk.

 _'Dive_ _and disappear without a trace. I just wanna be someone. Well doesn't_ ever _yone.'_

_***_

'That there was pretty good,' the man said, handing them each a plate. They dug in, not caring what they were eating. The man waited silently until they'd finished. He offered a hand out to Thomas. 'Name's Bobby, this here's my place,' he said, gesturing around them.

Thomas nodded, taking his hand. 'Thomas. That's Newt and Minho.'

Bobby nodded. 'Well,' he started, 'I got an offer for you boys. If you-' he points to Thomas- 'perform like that every night, you got yourself a job. You boys can have have free dinner and a place to stay, a little bonus.' He stacked their empty plates, putting the cutlery on top. 'Now I'd say that's a pretty good deal, wouldn't you?' 

Thomas looked to Newt and Minho, shocked at the proposition. Minho looked disbelieving, Newt, thoughtful. 

'I'll give you three a moment to decide,' Bobby said, taking their plates and heading off to the kitchen.

'I think he's full of klunk,' Minho said immediately, crossing his arms over the table.

'I think we ought to consider it at least. I mean, food and shelter sounds nice for a while.' Newt suggested.

'No way. It's too good to be true,' Minho argued.

Newt then turned to Thomas. 'What do you think?' he asked.

Thomas shrugged. 'I don't mind food and shelter. Honestly, a job would be a really good thing right now.'

Minho waved his arms around frantically in front of him. 'There's no way this guy's for real. What's in it for him?'

'A singer?' Newt suggested, shrugging. 

'A singer,' Minho deadpanned. 'Yeah, right, he's gonna give us free food and a room for a _singe_ _r?'_

'I think I believe him,' Thomas said.

Minho huffed. 'And why's that?' 

Thomas shrugged. 'He seemed sincere enough.' 

'I agree with Tommy. I think we should at least stay a bit.'

'What if it's a trick?' Minho challenged.

'Then we'll find a way out of it. We always do.'

'Two to one, Min,' Newt said.

Minho stared at them for a long while, before shaking his head. 'Fine. I'll trust you guys on this one. But anything suspicious, we're leaving. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' they said in unison. 

Bobby came back out, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder. 'So, you boys make a decision?'

Thomas looked at Newt and Minho before nodding. 'We'll stay.'

A grin appeared on Bobby's face. 'Great! We can sort out details later. For now, let's get you three a room and a good night's sleep, ay?' 

The three nodded, getting up to follow him. Bobby led them up a flight of stairs near the kitchen entrance and guided them to the end of the hall. 'This'll be you room, three bed, bathroom, everything ya need.' He tapped his pockets, looking for something. 'Ah,' he said, pulling out a set of keys. He pulled one off with the number 106, marching the door they stood in front of. He handed it to Thomas. 'Here ya go. Anything ya need, just yell.'

He left, leaving the three slightly bewildered. 

'Okay,' Newt conceded, 'he does see a bit _too_ nice.'

'Tell me about it,' Minho replied as Thomas opened the door.

Inside was, like Bobby had said, three beds. Two were lined along the longer wall while the other sat under the window.

The room seemed quite worn down, stains and faded colours.

'Dibs!' Minho called to them, jumping on the window bed.

Thomas rolled his eyes, setting the keys on the table.

'I say we unpack when everything's sorted out,' Newt suggested. 'Wouldn't want to leave everything here if we need to make a run for it.'

Thomas hummed in agreement. 'Good plan.'

Minho laid on his bed, spreading out. 'Been a long time since we had one of these,' he said, shifting around.

'Yeah,' Newt agreed, walking over to an empty bed and sitting down. 'Think we be able to stay here long?' He asked, lying down, arms under his head.

'Hopefully,' Thomas answered, moving to the last vacant bed and sitting down. 'It'd be nice to settle down for a while.'

Minho sat up. 'So, Tom, you never told us you could sing,' he stated, smirking.

Thomas matched his smirk. 'When would've been a good time to tell you? When we were being chased by Griever's or when we were traveling through endless desert?'

'Yeah, yeah, very funny.'

'Where'd you learn guitar, Tommy?'

Thomas thought for a moment. When he thought of a guitar, a woman came to mind. Brown hair, brown eyes. _Mom._

'I think my mum taught me,' he replied, feeling a sadness weigh down his heart. 'And I think she's dead.'

Newt nodded solemnly, keeping quiet.

'You think we have family out there? Somewhere?' Minho asked after a while.

His question went unanswered as silence drowned out the world. More questions only filled their heads.

Eventually, Minho fell asleep. Then Newt.

Thomas stayed wide awake. He couldn't sleep.

Thomas tossed and turned throughout the night.

He didn't know when, but his thoughts moved to his mother.

The woman who raised him. The woman who was gone.

He could feel memories burrowed in his mind, like they were trapped in a box he didn't have the key to.

He knew the memories of his parents were locked in that box.

He strained his mind, trying to remember the smallest glimpse of his childhood. Of his mother.

One word came to mind.

 _Mischief_ _._

The word confused him. Mischief? What could that mean?

With 'mischief' came 'stiles' and he felt more baffled and bewildered then ever before.

With 'stiles' came 'Noah,' then 'dad.'

Dad.

And suddenly, the box was open.

***

Newt woke to quiet sniffles. He rolled over, confusion taking over his actions.

The sniffles were coming from Thomas' bed. He heard a stifled sob, a shuddering breath. He could just make out Thomas' curled up figure, shoulders heaving.

Newt's heart sank. He was crying.

'Tommy?' he asked, propping himself on his elbow. Thomas froze, his sniffles quieting. 'You okay?'

Thomas inhaled deeply. 'Yeah,' he whispered, rolling over slightly. 'Go back to sleep.'

'Yeah, no,' Newt said and rolled his eyes, sitting up fully. 'What's wrong?'

'Noth-'

'Thomas.'

Thomas sighed, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. 'I remembered my parents.'

That left Newt even more confused. 'Isn't that a good thing?'

Thomas shook his head. 'Not in the slightest.'

'Why?'

Thomas was quiet for a minute, and Newt was about to ask him again when he answered.

'My mum... she died when I was young.'

Newt's heart squeezed in sympathy.

'She was ill. Frontotemporal dementia. It pretty much makes you go crazy.' He laughed, but there was no humor in it. My mum didn't recognise me in her last months. Thought I was trying to kill her.' He let out a shuddering breath, shifting uncomfortably.

Newt was silent, processing this.

'On her last day, though, she remembered me. Told me to look out for dad. Take care of him. Then she died right in front of me.'

Newt wasn't sure what to say to that. 'What about your dad?'

Thomas choked on a sob. 'He's alive,' he whispered. 'Alive and alone. He lost mom, and then he lost me.'

Newt could tell Thomas was desperately trying to contain his sobs.

Newt threw his sheets off and swung his legs over the bod, tiptoeing to Thomas.

He grabbed the sheet and slipped in beside Thomas.

He let Thomas cry.

***

Thomas woke to sun streaming through the window. His eyes fluttered open, and he scrunched his face in confusion when he felt warmth beside him.

He tilted his head, brows furrowing when he saw Newt sleeping there.

He face relaxed as he remembered.

Movement across the room caught his attention. Minho was walking out of the bathroom.

'Mornin',' he said, smirking at them but didn't say anything else.

Thomas felt heat rise to his face.

_Great._

***

Later that day, the three headed down to the bar, Thomas glad Newt hadn't mentioned anything.

Bobby greeted them at the counter. 'Can I get ya a bite while we sort everythin' out?'

They agreed and sat on the stools.

'So we're really doing this?' Minho asked, leaning forward on the counter.

'I guess,' Thomas shrugged.

Bobby came back out, three plates balanced haphazardly on his arms. 'Here ya boys go. I'll let ya eat first.'

***

$15 per song. It was a good deal. In all honesty, Thomas had expected less, considering the free food and room.

They'd agreed to pay rent once they got enough money.

Bobby had even given him the guitar. It confused Thomas, how the man was so kind. And he was sure it confused Newt and Minho too.

Thomas didn't know if it made him like the guy or distrust him.

***

Over the next few weeks, Thomas played every night, earning a total of $105 a week.

Bobby had offered Newt and Minho a job too.

Newt was thinking about getting a job to help, like serving drinks with Bobby.

Thomas felt more comfortable around Bobby.

The man somewhat reminded him of his own father. Or what he could remember about him, anyway.

Over the weeks, they began to feel at home. They'd get up for breakfast and talk to Bobby, then Thomas would practice a new song for a while and everything they did flowed just right.

Bobby's was becoming their home.

And Thomas liked that.

***

'I'm _hungry_.'

Scott rolled his eyes. Malia hadn't stopped complaining the whole trip.

Lydia groaned. 'Malia, how many times do I have to tell you? There's nowhere to eat for miles.'

Malia huffed. 'Well, if you would just listen to me and pull over for a minute, I can get some deer.'

Lydia spluttered. 'No! Scott, help me out here?'

Scott sighed. 'Mal, remember, we've talked about this.'

Malia sat back in her seat, crossing her arms and grumbling.

It was silent for a while. Scott's eyes were beginning to droop when a loud gasp startled him awake.

The car swerved, Malia's sudden gasp having scared Lydia as well. 'Malia!' She scolded, gaining back control of the car.

A large grin covered Malia's face as she pointed to something excitedly like a three year old. 'Food!'

Scott followed her gaze, seeing a building in the distance. Neon lights stood out against the dark night sky.

Lydia sighed. 'Food,' she mimicked halfheartedly.

Malia's grin grew.

***

The bar was lively.

Describe. Lights shone around the room.  
They approached the main counter, where a group of three already sat, talking to the man behind the counter.

Scott, Lydia and Malia took a seat to the right, where an Asian was. He turned at their appearance and stared thoughtfully at them for a moment before turning back to the man talking.

The man seemed to say something funny, as the three laughed.

The man smiled, seemingly satisfied with the reaction. 'One moment, boys.' He moved over to them, leaning on the counter. 'How can I help you, kiddos?'

'Just some food,' Lydia answered with an easy smile. 'We'll get...' she looked to Malia, who was staring hungrily at the kitchen behind the man. 'Anything,' she finished, rolling her eyes.

The man laughed. 'Be back in a minute.'

The Asian turned to him, smirking. 'She hungry?' he asked, nodded to Malia.

Lydia nodded. 'She's been complaining for hours.'

He nodded. Then he held out his hand. 'Minho.'

Lydia smiled. 'Lydia. That's Scott and Malia.'

Minho nodded again. 'That's Newt-' he pointed to the blonde whose back was to them as he and the brunette talked in hushed tones- 'and that's Thomas.'

They couldn't see their faces, and the two didn't seem to realise Minho had introduced them.

'Oi, you two lovebirds!'

They raised their heads, and the breath was knocked out of her.

The boy Minho had introduced as Thomas was...

' _Stiles_?' Scott asked, voice choked.

Stiles smiled, confused. He looked to Newt and Minho, who shrugged. 'Sorry, what?'

Malia, having forgotten her hunger, got up behind Scott. _**(**_ _ **Malia**_ _ **never**_ _ **met**_ _ **Stiles**_ )

'Stiles, it's us.'

Thomas tilted his head, his confusion genuine. 'What? I don't know you or _Stiles_ _._ '

Before Scott could object, Bobby came rushing out with three plates. 'Here ya go, kids.' He looked up at Stiles. 'C'mon, Tom, you're up.'

Stiles nodded, following Bobby to the stage.

Newt and Minho gave them strange looks but turned to the stage where Bobby introduced 'Thomas.'

Thomas sat on a stool, guitar in hand. He strummed a few chords, and the three pack members stared in disbelief.

Stiles. Stiles, their friend, brother. Stiles, who'd been missing three years. Stiles, who'd been presumes dead.

  
_'_ _Well_ _you_ _only_ _need_ _the_ _light_ _when_ _it's_ _burning_ _low_ _._ _Only_ _miss_ _the_ _sun_ _when_ _it_ _starts_ _to_ _snow_ _._ _Only_ _know_ _you_ _love_ _her_ _when_ _you_ _let_ _her_ _go_ _.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully wasn't too cringe :))  
> Part 2?
> 
> Check out my depressing insta- @mhm_thats_right


	10. Bobby's Part 2

"You kids just passing through, or are you looking for a room?"

Thomas was still on stage, and Scott shook himself out of his shock.

Lydia went to reply, but Scott spoke first. "We're staying the night. Long road ahead and all." Lydia gave him a look, that Bobby didn't seem notice.

Bobby nodded. "Wanna hang here or do you want me to take you to one?"

Scott looked to Thomas, surprised to see him already looking at him, confusion in his eyes. "Uh, I think we'll stay down here a bit longer."

He turned back to Bobby, who nodded. "Well, when you're ready." Bobby moved back to Minho and Newt and began talking.

Scott turned to Lydia and Malia.

"He doesn't remember us," Lydia said, voice choked.

"How though?" Scott asked. "We're his best friends."

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head.

"So, he's the one you guys lost?" Malia asked.

Scott nodded. "He went missing a couple years ago. He was declared dead, and we could never find a scent. He just disappeared."

"You gonna try talk to him?"

"Of course. He's my brother."

***

 _"Here, I'll forgive my thoughts now._ _Steer it, 'cause I forget the dots now."_

Seeing Stiles, it... Scott didn't even know. It was strange. Two whole years. He'd been gone, out of their lives for two whole years, but here he was. _Singing._

It just didn't seem real.

_"Was it all any more faded after all?_ _I don't know, I don't know, I don't know._ _Are you sure, did you call, or did we ever really talk?_  
 _I don't know, I don't know, I don't know._ _I don't know, I don't."_

How could he not remember them? His brother and his long time crush, since 'third frickin' grade?'

How had he forgotten them?

Unless he hadn't...

Had something happened? Had he maybe hit his head, or gotten hurt?

What else could explain it?

All Scott knew was that his heart lurched every time Stiles' eyes found him, but held no recognition. 

His best friend didn't remember him.

What was he supposed to do? And what does he tell the Sheriff? Should he ring him now? Wait until they bring Stiles home? _If_ they bring Stiles home? 

Did Stiles even remember his own father?

There was so much to think about, he didn't even know what to think anymore.

He'd ask Lydia later. She always knew best about these things. Or anything really...

Stiles finished the last song, and hopped off the stage, and headed over to Minho and Newt. Bobby was still talking with them.

Scott looked to Lydia. "I think we should talk to him. Or maybe we should get him alone, see if he knows more then he'd letting on."

Lydia sighed. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this."

Malia leaned over. "What if he doesn't remember though? What are you going to do then?"

They were silent a moment. "Then we'll make him remember."

***

After dinner, and Malia couldn't eat another wedge, Stiles approached Scott, tapping him hesitantly on the shoulder. Minho and Newt had headed upstairs not long after Stiles finished singing, but Stiles stayed behind. 

Scott smiled at him, hoping he didn't look too hopeful. Lydia looked like she was hoping the same.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, moving his eyes pointedly to Malia and Lydia.

Scott nodded, getting the cue, and turned to his friends. "Be right back."

Lydia looked like she wanted to say something, but nodded, keeping quiet.

Stiles lead Scott up the stairs and to the room he shared with Minho and Newt. Opening the door, Stiles stood to the side for Scott to enter. Confused, and a little hesitant, he conceded, entering and seeing Newt and Minho sitting on a bed.

Stiles followed him in, shutting the door behind them. Scott stood awkwardly in the room, not sure what to say.

Stiles stepped in front of him, pointing to a chair to the side. "Sit."

Scott did so, still unsure about being so close to his friend that didn't remember him.

Stiles grabbed another chair, placing it backwards _**(y'know what i mean right XD)**_ and sitting as Newt and Minho got up. "Talk."

Scott blanched, surprised at the request- or order. "About what?"

Stiles sighed, rubbing his face. "Who are you? I _know_ you, don't I? I've seen you in dreams, same with that Lydia. How do I know you?"

"Oh." Scott was shocked. That was easier than he'd thought. Stiles half remembered them. It was as good a start as any. "Um, we were friends."

"Friends?" Minho asked. "Care to elaborate?"

"We grew up together, in Beacon Hills. You lived with your dad, remember?" Stiles flinched.

"Is he okay?"

Scott nodded, as confused as ever. "Yeah, I mean, he's devastated, but I keep an eye on him. Why don't you remember anything?"

Stiles ignored his question. "Where's Beacon Hills?"

"Well, me and my friends are going back tomorrow. You could follow us in your car? Your dad will be so happy to see you, it's been two years."

Stiles looked to his friends, exchanging glances in silent communication. After a minute of awkwardly sitting there, Stiles turned to him. "We'll talk about it. Tell you in the morning."

Scott nodded, recognising the dismissal and standing up. "Tomorrow.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me cringing while reading through this: sO uNrEaLiStIc.  
> The other part of me: It's fanfiction and Teen Wolf, what do you expect?  
> Cringing me: ReAliSM?
> 
> I know I left you all on a cliff hanger but my back hurts and I wanted to update something XD


	11. Strawberry Blonde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stydia Time

_ "Lydia! You look like... you're gonna ignore me!" _

_ "What the hell is a Stiles?" _

_ "I think you look beautiful when you cry." _

_ "When I kissed you, you held your breath." _

_" And if you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind."_

_ Then something cut through the words like a knife. _

_A banshee's scream._

***

It was all he could think about. Strawberry blonde hair. Hazel eyes that lit up in a smile. Smart witted retorts and a brilliant sense of humor.

It was all he could think about.

The girl he was forced to forget.

The girl he remembered anyway. 

It was irritating, infuriating, having a memory right there, just out of arms reach. He couldn't grasp it, grasp the memory. He could only see fleeting images and words that never made sense. 

Who was she? 

The question never failed to return to him, taunt him. 

_Who was Lydia?_

***

Lydia sighed, pouring hot tea into the Sheriff's mug.

Ever since Stiles had disappeared- no word, no note, nothing- Lydia had stepped up, helping his father as best as she could.

The man had become a shell of himself since Stiles had gone, and Lydia tried to look after him.

Stiles' disappearance was a mystery that would, perhaps, forever remain unsolved. It made her heart ache at the thought, but he'd been gone years.

Maybe he was never coming back.

Though she had never screamed, everyone thought he was dead. Derek and the pack gave up long ago, lost all aspiration, and Scott was barely holding onto hope.

Lydia passed the mug to him across the bench. He smiled. "Thank you, Lydia."

She smiled back, but knew it didn't reach her eyes.

***

"Stop the car!" Minho exclaimed as they drove past an intersection, a sign beside it reading _Beacon Hills,_ and another advertising food.

Newt slammed on the breaks, looking around frantically.

Thomas' eyes snapped to Minho, who was looking out the window, a huge grin on his face.

"Food!" he exclaimed, pointing to the advertisement next to the intersection.

"Minho!"

"What? I'm _hungry_."

Newt rolled his eyes. "We _just_ got food."

"Like half an hour ago," Thomas added.

Minho pouted, reminding Thomas of a two year old. "Please?"he asked, holding his hands together. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

Newt groaned. "Fine. But you're paying," he said, shaking his head and reversing the car, heading through to road leading to 'Beacon Hills.'

Thomas stared at the sign as they passed. A sense of... _familiarity_ washed over him.

_Beacon Hills._

***

Lydia glanced at her watch again, sighing. Scott was meant to be here 20 minutes ago. They'd agreed to meet up for lunch but he still hadn't shown.

She wondered if he'd gotten caught up in something, but she knew he would call her if he had.

Maybe he'd just forgotten.

She pulled out her phone to call him, when the bell in the diner door opened, and she heard chatter peak up. 

She found Scott's ID and pressed on it, holding the phone to her ear as she looked up.

She nearly dropped it.

Because walking through the diner, to a table, was a boy she hadn't seen in... Years.

Walking through the diner was the boy she fell in love with.

Walking through the diner, was Stiles.

"Hey," Scott answered, "sorry, Lyds, my mum needed me to drop something off. I've-"

"Get here." Lydia hated how her voice trembled. "Get here now."

***

They found a table and sat, and Minho began searching the menu for whatever he was craving. Newt sat back in his chair, lost in his own head.

Thomas, however, was looking around the small diner, another feeling of familiarity washing over him.

It was like he'd been here before, but that was also impossible. Wasn't it?

How could he have possibly been here before?

"Dude," Minho said, gaining his attention. He pointed to something in the menu. "It says there's free bread sticks at the secondary table. First, we're so getting some. Secondly, what the hell is a secondary table, and where is it?"

Thomas smirked. "Its over there " he replied, pointing behind him.

Minho followed his gesture. "Oh. I didn't even notice it." He got up, happily skipping to the table. 

That's when Thomas realised he hadn't noticed it either.

Minho returned with a plate, and Newt snatched one, laughing when Minho tried and failed to swat his hand away.

Thomas felt his neck prickle, like someone was watching him. His head snapped around, and his eyes fell on a girl staring at him.

A strawberry blonde girl.

He jumped up, startling Newt and Minho.

"Dude, you good?" Minho asked.

Thomas didn't look away from the girl, nor did she look away from him.

"Thomas?" Newt asked when he didn't answer.

The girl stood, looking at him like he was a ghost. Thomas couldn't believe it.

This girl, he knew her.

What were the odds that he would visit this small town, and find the girl he'd seen so many times in dreams... Or locked away memories.

Thomas left his table, hesitantly approaching her.

"Stiles?"

Thomas halted at the word- name- whatever.

"Who's Stiles?" He asked.

The girl inhales sharply. "You... You mean you don't..."

"No," he said, knowing what she was trying to say. He didn't know 'Stiles.' He didn't remember 'Stiles.'

She swallowed thickly, and Thomas knew she was desperately trying not to cry.

"Do you... Remember me?"

_'Remember I love you.'_

He didn't remember who she was, but he did remember her _._

"Remember I love you."

The girl nodded, head bopping up and down as a tear escaped her eye.

"Yes. Yes, you remember that?" 

He remembered fear. Fear and sadness. Was this when he was taken?

"I never said it back," she told him.

Thomas' heart ached, something saddening him beyond belief.

This girl- he loved her. He didn't know how, but he loved her. 

He still did.

"You didn't have to," he replied.

A name came to his lips, and it brought back so much he didn't know he had.

_"Lydia."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha this is a lil weird. I haven't update anything in a while though so... AnYwAYs.  
> I got two questions.  
> One: how many chapters do you all think this story should have?  
> Two: what story should I update next?


	12. One Call Away

There was a number.  
10 digits long.  
It was engraved in his head like a brand.  
He'd always remembered it, just never had the use for it. Or the time for it.  
But now, staring at the burner phones on the shelf in the abandoned store, he knew what he was going to to.  
Minho and Newt were in the stores beside the one he was in, and he didn't bother calling for them.  
This might not even work.  
His hand shook as he reached out for a phone, and it took a lot of fiddling to actually get the packet open.  
But now, as he plugged the cord into the socket, he felt eerily calm.  
Like he knew he was doing the right thing.  
The phone turned on with an opening chime, and he fumbled around for the call option.  
He didn't waste time, tapping the separate numbers in to form the whole.   
It was the number.   
10 digits long.  
It was engraved into his mind.  
He stared at the number he typed, hesitation clawing at his chest.  
What if this _wasn't_ right? What if it was just another thing WCKD planned out, he was following along with obliviously?  
What if it was all a trick again, a way to make him fall right back into the hands of Wicked?   
But no. There was something about it that didn't seem cruel, or harmful. There was something about the number that made him trust it.  
He pressed _call_.  
The phone hummed on and off as it waited to be answered.  
It clicked, and a voice spoke, weary and exhausted.  
"Hello, Sheriff Stilinski speaking. How can I help?"  
Thomas blanched. A Sheriff? Why did he have a Sheriff's number memorised?   
"Hello? Anyone there?"  
Thomas inhaled shakily. "Hi," he said, unsure of what _to_ say.   
There was a moment silence on the other end. "Who is this?"   
It confused Thomas, but the man's voice shook.  
"I'm Thomas," he said truthfully. No point lying anymore.  
"Thomas who?"  
He paused for a beat before answering. "I don't know. Just Thomas."  
The Sheriff was quiet, assumably mulling things over.  
"And why, _Thomas_ , are you calling me?"  
He heard ruffling on the Sheriff's side of the phone, a series of beeps, too.  
"I... I remembered your number."  
"You... What?"  
"Your number. I remembered it, so I called it." Thomas said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. He knew it was anything but.  
"How do you know my number? Do you know _me_ _?_ ''  
" I don't know."  
They were both silent.  
Thomas didn't know if the man believed him or not, but it was more than likely that he didn't.  
He found himself studying a map in hopes of a distraction from the awkward silence.  
There was a large country, America. He knew that. It was all the little places in it that confused him.  
_Texas_ _,_ _Los_ _Angeles_ _, California..._ _Beacon_ _Hills_ _._  
"Where are you from, son?"  
"I don't know."  
"You don't- you don't know where you were born, where you grew up, where you live?"  
He heard the obvious disbelief in the man's words.   
He thought he was lying.  
"Beacon Hills."   
He didn't know why he said it, maybe just on a whim, to be away from the man's scrutiny.  
"Beacon Hills, huh? What a coincidence."  
Thomas froze. "You live in Beacon Hills?"  
"I do. And I just so happen to know everyone in this town. Who are you, kid? Where are you? I just want to help."  
The man sounded so kind, so trustworthy.   
Why? He didn't know. But Thomas believed him.   
"I told you who I am. Thomas. I don't know my last name." He looked out the window at a large, weathered sign. "But I'm in Kia." **(** **Pretend** **that's** **a** **place** **.)**  
"Kia? That's the next town over."  
Thomas didn't say anything, just looked at the map in front of him. He was right. Beacon Hills and Kia were right beside each other.  
"Tell you what, son. Come over to the sheriff's department, and we can have a chat. I only want to help."  
He didn't have to think before he made up his mind. Besides curiosity, be trusted the man. It was strange. He'd never even seen his face, but he really did trust him.  
"Okay."  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'll make a part two for this.


	13. One Call Away Part 2

His phone rang with a shrill beep, startling the Sheriff after hours of silence. He dropped his files on the desk and picked up the phone, reading the ' _Unknown Caller.'_

Noah pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Sheriff Stilinski speaking. How can I help?"

He waited for an answer, but there was only silence on the other end. The Sheriff sat up straighter. 

"Hello? Anyone there?"

The caller sucked in a breath, answering shakily. "Hi."

The Sheriff paused, his face draining of colour. That voice... 

"Who is this?" he asked suspiciously, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. There was no way this was him. That was impossible. Lydia had screamed, and he'd finally begun to move on, to accept this.

It couldn't be him.

"I'm Thomas," the caller replied.

"Thomas who?"

He paused for a beat before answering. "I don't know. Just Thomas."

The Sheriff was quiet, mulling things over. How could he not know what his last name was? Why was he even _calling_ him? He didn't seem to be in distress, he seemed to be alone, with no other sounds aside from his voice.

"And why, _Thomas_ , are you calling me?"

He reached over his desk to his computer, pressing a few keys to track the call location. He didn't know why but there was something about this Thomas that made him unsure.

"I... I remembered your number."

Noah froze. "You... What?"

"Your number. I remembered it, so I called it." Thomas said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

"How do you know my number? Do you know _me_ _?_ '' He didn't recall knowing any Thomases, apart from the old man down the street.

" I don't know."

They were both silent.

"Where are you from, son?" 

"I don't know."

"You don't- you don't know where you were born, where you grew up, where you live?"  
The Sheriff was about ready to hang up. Was this some prank call or something?

"Beacon Hills." 

Noah was quiet for a moment, thinking about Thomas' answer.

"Beacon Hills, huh? What a coincidence," he said after a minute.

Thomas pasued before replying. "You live in Beacon Hills?"

"I do. And I just so happen to know everyone in this town. Who are you, kid? Where are you? I just want to help."

And he did. This boy seemed so lost, and he hated to allow himself to hope but he sounded just like his son once had. He hadn't heard that voice in years, and hearing it again...

"I told you who I am. Thomas. I don't know my last name." There was a beat of silence, before he continued. "But I'm in Kia." 

"Kia?" He asked. He remembered going there once on a call. It was completely abandoned. "That's the next town over."

Thomas didn't say anything.

"Tell you what, son. Come over to the sheriff's department, and we can have a chat. I only want to help."

Thomas' response was almost immediate, and it made the Sheriff long for his son back.

But he couldn't hope. Not yet.

"Okay."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorta sucks but eh


	14. Fly

_**Takes place Post- Death Cure. Newt lived, and Thomas, Newt and Minho have left the Safe Haven to explore the area.  
** _

_**And also, in this story line, Argent kept the Nogitsune fly, y'know the one right?** _

**The place was** silent, eerie. The only sound being the occasional buzzing of a fly, feasting on the moldy, decaying remains of what was once food.

Thomas followed Newt and Minho into an old house, it's light green paint peeling in crusty flakes. Something clicked in his mind at the sight of the house, and Thomas wondered if his own house had once been like this one.

The air was musty inside, smelling blighted and tasting sour. It makes his mouth dry and his nose burn.

On the floor behind the door, a pile of letters sat, sliding across the floor from the on-brought wind from outside. Two names were written on the majority of the letters, Melissa and Scott McCall.

There was a door to the left, and a staircase beside him. Thomas moved for the door as Newt and Minho took the stairs. He moved forward, scanning the room. He seemed to be in a dining room, dingy and banged up, but a table sat in the center, still set from years prior.

A coke can sat on the table, faded of color but still intact. Someone had been drinking that. Maybe they forgot about it, he wondered. Or maybe they were forced to leave it, and their home, behind in a flurry if panic and chaos.

He'd never know.

It makes Thomas' heart pang with pity- or is it just sadness? A family once lived here, sat here. For all he knew, they could be dead.

Thomas, Newt and Minho had been exploring the abandoned towns around the area, and this 'Beacon Hills' was the third town they'd been to.

Gally, Frypan, Brenda and Jorge had gone further to another town, splitting up to explore the towns faster. They were hoping to find civilization, someone who knew what was going on in the world, someone who could give them answers.

They'd had no luck so far.

Thomas carried on, searching the rooms for anything that could be useful.

He searched through the lounge room, the last room downstairs , and sighed. There was nothing here.

He about about to go upstairs and see if Newt and Minho had any luck, when something caught his eye and an unexplainable cold washed over him.

He shivered, turning back to the room.

On the table, by the grimy, dusty window, was a box, its wooden casing smooth and rounded.

It made his heart hammer violently in his chest.

He took a hesitant step forward. Now that he was closer, he saw a small glasses area on the side, allowing him to see into the box.

A soft buzz reached his ears, and then he saw the contents.

It was a fly.

His chest seized, eyes widened. He wanted nothing but to run, run far away, but he was frozen, fear trapping him.

He couldn't breathe, the terror consuming him.

It was back, _it_ _was_ _back_ _._

A small voice whispered in his ear, hissing a word so familiar yet one he didn't know.

_Stiles_ _._

_***_

Minho huffed, dumping the empty med-box onto the sink. "There's nothing up here."

Newt appeared in the doorway, hands empty. "Yeah, I didn't find anything either."

The two headed back down the old, creaking stairs, the house otherwise silent. They headed into the closest room, the lounge room, and saw Thomas standing there.

Minho instantly had a bad feeling.

"Thomas?" he asked slowly, taking a cautious step towards him.

He didn't answer, but Minho saw that he was staring at a small box on a table by the window. 

"Tommy?" Newt pitched in, placing a hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"

This time, there was a response. 

"Not again _ **.**_ _Not again_ ," Thomas mumbled, eyes never leaving the box.

Minho didn't think twice, before pushing the small box off the table and stamping his foot over it,breaking it into jarred pieces.

Thomas blinked, seemingly

"Tommy?" Newt said again.

"You scared of bugs now, Tomboy?" Minho asked.

Thomas shook his head slowly.

"Well, what happened?"

"Something about that..." Thomas said, staring back at the box. 

The soft sound of buzzing emanated from it, and a small, black fly crawled out of the wreckage.

It flew away, retreating to the shadows.

"It's... _evil_."

***

_**actually sucks but like... meh. can' beh bovered ter make ut betta, yer know?  
** _

_**next post will probably be assassin or blank stares.** _


	15. Overcast

This Oneshot story collection thing js discontinued, but I will post what I had XD

***

Thomas liked the dark skies of overcast weathers. He liked the gray atmosphere, the stormy clouds, the shadowy streets. He liked the raindrops that fell from the gloomy clouds, and the cold breeze blowing by. 

It was peaceful, calming. Comforting in a way that couldn't be described. The way the world as it was just seemed to be swept away and replaced with darkness and gray skies that could swallow one whole.

After travelling through the bright, blinding Scorch, and after living in a sweltering world, the cold was welcomed with open arms. Anyone would be thankful for a single cloud hiding the sun, let alone the whole sky.

So when Thomas was moved back to the small town of Beacon Hills, it wasn't so bad. If he could live in a world like this, dark, cold, gray, he wouldn't be obliged to argue.

Thomas was reunited with his father, a kind, worn down man whom had definitely been through some hard times. With that tired look in his eyes, and the lines around his eyes. it was clear he held a heavy weight in his shoulders.

Thomas briefly wondered if he'd added to the load his father carried, and if he'd caused a few of those gray hairs, but the man only greeted him with relief and happiness.

The next person he'd met had been a boy his age, with a goofy smile and a crooked jaw. He hugged Thomas so tight he didn't seem human, and when he I introduced himself as Scott, Thomas felt a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. A familiar, but aged feeling of loyalty and trust. He knew this boy had a good heart, and he was eager to know him again.

Soon after, Thomas was reacquainted with a beautiful girl, whose strawberry blonde hair reflected the sun's light like a mirror. She had the brightest green eyes, big enough to hold the world. They were filled with tears as she laid eyes on him, and he knew, behind the smile that lit her face, was a great deal of pain. Lydia Martin, her name was. He didn't intend to forget it.

There was a blur of other faces, names and smiles. Liam, Malia, Kira, Derek. There were so many people from his old life

***

And that's that for this whole Oneshot story thingmabob


End file.
